


Boarding School Sucked

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, M/M, also it's underage bc brendon's 17 and dallon's 21, but it's still consensual, petekey is only mentioned but still, same with ryan and keltie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boarding School AU (obviously). It's kinda shit but oh well it's my first fic. Brendon's POV 3rd person</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Boarding school sucked, Brendon decided. He knew that he’d only been here a few hours and he should give it more of a chance, but he also knew that he could name a handful of other places he’d rather be than lying on an uncomfortable bed, in an unfamiliar room, trying his very hardest to tune out the sounds of his roommate (Peter?) jacking off a few feet away. A few minutes of agony later, Peter let out a strangled noise and Brendon was pretty sure it was over. His relief lasted a pleasant three minutes before the groans were replaced by enormous, heaving snores. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A monotonous blaring alarm jolted Brendon awake, and he lay in bed for a while trying to remember where he was.  
“That means breakfast in five.”  
Brendon twisted his neck around to find the owner of the voice. His eyes settled on a short dark-haired kid who was carefully applying eyeliner in the mirror next to the door. Ah yes, his roommate. Peter spotted Brendon in the reflection and his face stretched into a toothy grin.  
“Rough night?”  
Brendon was about to retort with something about Peter’s sleeping habits when a second alarm blared and he decided he was hungry and getting pissy with his roommate could wait. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and followed Peter out of the dorm.  
The mess hall was bigger than he’d expected. The school had previously been a cathedral so the arched ceiling gave the room impressive acoustics, and there were rows of long tables full of tired teenagers stretched out in front of him. It reminded him of fucking Hogwarts or some shit.  
“Pete!” a curly haired guy shouted from one of the tables. He stretched out a muscular arm and waved.  
Pete grinned and began walking towards the table, leaving Brendon tagging behind him, feeling completely out of place.  
“Joe! My man, how was your summer?” Pete said, attacking Joe in a full on back-slapping man-hug.  
“S’alright, yeah!” – Joe seemed to notice Brendon standing awkwardly behind Pete – “Yo who’s this guy! He’s cute! A little young for you though.” Joe wiggled his eyebrows at Pete and they exchanged a knowing glance.  
“This is Brendon, and he’s only a junior Joe, so I still have a shot!” Pete laughed. Brendon felt incredibly uncomfortable.  
Joe obviously picked up on this and grabbed Brendon by the shoulder, shaking him a little too vigorously to be comforting. “We’re only playing with ya man, Pete’s heart belongs to another.”  
Joe made a faux-longing gaze at a kid sitting at the table nose deep in an astronomy textbook before Pete playfully shoved him and told him to shut the fuck up.  
Finally, Brendon was invited to sit down and grab something to eat, and he was buttering his toast as Joe introduced everyone.  
“That’s Patrick” – he pointed towards a ginger kid who smiled and gave him a short wave – “Mikey” – gesturing towards Pete’s apparent love interest – “Gee” – a kid who was sketching something much too important to give breakfast or Brendon any of their attention – “Spencer” – a smiley looking brunette who had impressively nice purple glittery nail polish on – “Frank” – an incredibly short kid with a nose and lip piercing and sharpie drawings all up his arms – “and—wait where the fuck is Ryan.”  
“He went to write some emo poetry, he said he’ll see us at lunch” – a scruffy brown haired kid slid into the seat next to Brendon – “and thanks for remembering Ryan and not me, Joe.”  
He reached out to grab an apple and bit into it, offering his other hand to Brendon “I’m Jon.”  
Brendon shook his hand. “Brendon.”  
“You a senior?”  
“Junior.”  
“Wow, you’re tall.”  
He laughed. He really wasn’t, everyone here was just really fucking short for some reason.  
He munched on some toast as the table argued about who was most likely to win a fight against the terminator. Brendon couldn’t help smiling to himself.

* * *

Brendon showed up 15 minutes late to his first class. Fortunately, the teacher didn’t even seem to notice him walk through the door. Plus it was Music, and Brendon was good at music, so he could make it up later.  
No one he’d been introduced to so far was in his music class, so he resigned himself to actually paying attention to the teacher. As it turns out the teacher was actually pretty fucking hot so he didn’t have much of a problem with that.  
Music class was a lot more fun that he expected it to be. It was still composition but it was the kind that involved playing the music, feeling it, seeing whether it sounded right. Not just sitting in front of a computer trying to translate a simple melody onto some outdated software.  
The teacher – Mr. Weekes – even got his bass out and starting playing with one of the students. It felt like the lesson had started five minutes ago when the bell rang.  
“That was a good lesson kids! Let’s make the rest of the year as productive as that one!” Mr. Weekes shouted as the students filed out.  
Brendon packed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, following the others out of the classroom.  
“Hey newbie!”  
Brendon turned around to see Mr. Weekes making a beckoning motion with his fingers. Brendon walked over to him.  
“What’s your name?”  
“Um, Brendon.”  
“Huh.”  
There was a pause. Mr. Weekes drummed his fingers against the side of his desk. “What do you play?”  
“Uhhm,” Brendon cleared his throat. “Guitar, vocals, bass, drums, accordion, cello–”  
“Wow, that’s quite a list you got there.”  
Brendon laughed nervously, avoiding Mr. Weekes’ gaze.  
“I want you to play me something.”  
Brendon was confused.  
“Your favorite song, your least favorite song – anything.”  
“N-now?”  
Mr. Weekes chuckled. “Next lesson. Come ten minutes early.”  
Brendon nodded. He could do that.

* * *  
He had Spanish next, then Calculus. Most of which he spent thinking about what the fuck he was supposed to play for his incredibly hot music teacher. In fact, he was still thinking about that when he walked into the common room at break, trying to find Pete and his friends.  
“Brendon!” said Jon, less than two seconds after Brendon walked through the door. “I want you to meet my dear friend Ryan Ross.”  
Brendon recognized Ryan from music class. He’d been playing with Mr. Weekes at one point.  
“Hey,” said Brendon. “You’re in my music class.”  
“I am?” Ryan asked quizzically. “Oh yeah! You’re the new kid who has a massive boner for Mr. Weekes.”  
Brendon blushed scarlet. What the fuck? No he doesn’t!  
“I-I don’t-”  
“Oh honey,” said Spencer, who was apparently now joining the conversation. “It’s okay, we’ve all been there.”  
“I haven’t!” Piped up Patrick from the other side of the room.  
Spencer was giving Brendon a pitiful look and rubbing his shoulder with his meticulous nails. Wow, Brendon sounded really gay all of a sudden.  
“The point is,” said Ryan. “You don’t wanna put yourself through that dude.”  
“Through what?” Pete said, walking through the door.  
“Brendon has a crush on Mr. Weekes.” Said John  
“I do not!” Brendon protested.  
Pete made a wincing face and drew in a sharp breath. “You don’t wanna go there man.”  
“I’m not going anywhere! I don’t like him!”  
“Whatever you say kiddo,” Pete said, throwing his arms up in defeat.  
Gee’s voice popped up from one of the couches. “I need a fucking cigarette.” – and they trudged out the door.  
Apparently having a cigarette was a communal experience because the whole room – save Patrick and some muscular longhaired guy called Andy – went outside to have one.  
“Want one?” said Jon, pulling out a pack of Mayfairs.  
Brendon said “sure,” because although he didn’t really smoke, he felt like this was his opportunity to try new things like having crushes on teachers and fucking up his lungs.  
Frank handed him a lighter and he lit up, only just managing not to cough on the first inhale. Everyone smoked pretty much in silence for the next few minutes and Brendon concentrated on smoking at roughly the same speed as the others.  
As they were walking back inside, they passed Mr. Weekes and Jon and Spencer grinned at Brendon, watching him blush.  
Brendon tried not to think about why it took him so long to fall asleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Brendon woke up half an hour early that morning, and spent an embarrassingly long time trying to make his hair look good, before going to grab a quick breakfast and walking down to the music hall. He checked his watch. 8:43. 17 minutes ‘til class starts.  
He sat at the piano and played a C. The noise echoed through the room. He sucked in a breath and began to play Everlong by Foo Fighters.  
He got all the way through to the second chorus before he forgot how to play it. He sighed and dropped his head onto the keys.  
“It’s a G sharp.”  
Brendon’s head shot up. Ryan was walking slowly towards him.  
“What?”  
“After ‘the only thing I’d ever ask of you’”  
“Oh,” Brendon was still lost to how the fuck he’d gotten in here. He smiled weakly. “Thanks.”  
“No problem.” Ryan nodded, but didn’t smile back. Come to think of it, Brendon doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ryan smile.  
“You’re really good by the way,” Ryan offered.  
Brendon looked up at him, to make sure he was being sincere before accepting the compliment.  
His eyes skimmed over Ryan’s features. He was generally sharp and stern looking, but there was a softness to his face, something that wasn’t as easy to pick up on.  
The sound of the door opening made Brendon jump, and he looked over to see Mr. Weekes looking at him.  
“Am I interrupting something?” he smirked.  
Before Brendon could reply, Ryan laughed and walked towards the door. Brendon was – as usual – very confused.  
As the door swung shut behind Ryan, Mr. Weekes said, “Hit me,” and Brendon began to play.  
Everlong did sound a hell of a lot better with that G sharp, and Brendon only fucked up twice, so he mentally thanked Ryan for that, even if he didn’t have any idea where he stood with the guy.  
“How do you feel about having a vocal coach?”  
* * *  
So apparently Brendon was now spending his Tuesday evenings hanging out with his music teacher, which should be great seeing as he’s super hot and all, but is instead kind of terrifying because he has to very carefully monitor his thoughts whenever in close proximity to him.  
He drew in a deep breath and opened the door to Mr. Weekes’ classroom. The teacher was wiping some notation off the blackboard, and smiled when he turned around to see Brendon.  
“You ready?” Mr. Weekes said.  
Brendon didn’t know the answer to that question but he nodded.  
They started off easy, breathing exercises, singing scales etc. and Brendon relaxed a little. This wasn’t going to be so hard. By the end of the session, Brendon felt like he’d improved already – Mr. Weekes was a really good teacher.  
Brendon left after promising he’d be there next week, and began to make his way back to his dorm.  
* * *  
He’s not quite sure how it happened. But Brendon spent the rest of the week hanging out with Spencer, Ryan and Jon. For some reason, they’d unanimously decided to invite him into their little circle. They’d still hang out with the others at mealtimes, and during lunch break. But after the school day ended, it was usually just the four of them.  
Another thing that seemed to have crept up on Brendon, was Ryan. And not literally, like that one time before music class, it was more that Brendon kept catching himself staring at his slender fingers as he rolled a cigarette, or at his hair as he noticed it growing out and beginning to curl at the ends.  
It wasn’t a sexual thing, Brendon knew that. It was more… a matter of aesthetic attraction. Brendon liked how Ryan looked. That didn’t automatically mean he would bend over for him on command.  
Still, it was getting a little distracting, when he bit his lip in concentration, and sometimes Brendon just wanted to lean over and – no. It wasn’t like that. Just a bit distracting that’s all.  
* * *  
“Dude. Wake up.”  
Brendon was lying in bed and Ryan was staring at him. It took him a couple moments to realize he was awake. Slowly, he sat up and put his glasses on.  
“What time is it?” he finally managed to say.  
“11:30. Put some clothes on.”  
Ryan wasn’t the only one in the room. Patrick was there too, and so was Spencer.  
Brendon obeyed, but he wasn’t sure quite why. They left the room and walked through the corridors in silence, and Brendon was about to ask where the fuck he was being taken when Spencer opened the door of a store cupboard and led the way down some stairs into what looked like a party.  
Brendon was quick to learn that it was, in fact, a party. With alcohol, music and dancing, and if the circle forming in the middle of the room was any indication, dumb teenage party games.  
After getting a drink, the four boys joined in with the game of “Spin The Bottle”, which was clearly keeping the drunk people happy. It was Pete’s turn to spin, and much to his delight, he landed on Patrick, and proceeded to dramatically engulf him in a sloppy kiss whilst Patrick cursed his bad luck. Patrick quit the game after that and went off to retrieve more alcohol.  
“Ross, you’re up.”  
Ryan sighed and reluctantly crawled towards the bottle. He flicked his wrist and Brendon couldn’t help but feel his heart rate quicken as the bottle slowed. It pointed at Joe. They gave each other a decent peck and sat back down.  
Brendon stayed in the circle for a few more rounds before getting bored and leaving to get another drink. He wondered how long this party was going to last.  
Half an hour later, Brendon felt pleasantly buzzed, and was doing a great job at ignoring Ryan and whatever the fuck he was feeling during the spin the bottle game.  
Surprisingly, it was Ryan that came to find Brendon, not the other way round, which made it a lot harder to ignore him.  
“Brendon.”  
“Ryan.”  
“You’re a really cool dude yknow.”  
“And you’re a really drunk dude.”  
Ryan shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, maybe….” - he finished his drink – “but that’s not why I said it.”  
“Right.” Said Brendon, doubtfully.  
Ryan looked at him, first at his eyes, then his mouth. Brendon swallowed.  
* * *  
Brendon gasped as the cold water hit his face. He wiped himself dry and stared at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his hair.  
“I need a fucking cigarette,” he said to no one in particular, and left the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Brendon seemed to be the only one out of his friends (save Andy), who didn’t have a raging hangover the next morning.  
Even Mr. Weekes seemed a little slow during music. Brendon tried to ignore the fact that every time he looked over at Ryan, he was staring straight back.  
That night Brendon dreamt of sweat and heat and breath and woke up at 5am to take a cold shower.  
* * *  
On Tuesday Brendon was still ignoring Ryan (or was it the other way round?) and he was so caught up in it that he almost forgot about his singing lesson.  
“Sorry I’m late.”  
Mr. Weekes looked up at him and smiled. “As long as you make up for it.”  
Brendon didn’t really make up for it. He was too distracted and kept forgetting to breathe properly. Even Mr. Weekes was starting to show a little bit of exasperation.  
“You see, you’re using your throat, but you need to sing from your diaphragm. Look, open your airways like this.”  
Mr. Weekes reached over and touched the sides of Brendon’s neck, holding his throat in position and instructing him to breathe. This instruction proved to be a little difficult for Brendon to carry out, as he was suddenly aware of how close together they were standing. The thing is, he would’ve been able to handle the situation a lot better if it weren’t for the fact that Brendon hadn’t jacked off since he joined the school, and he was dealing with this whole Ryan thing, and the multiple fantasies Brendon had had about his incredibly attractive music teacher, whose hands were touching his neck.   
So rather than breathing like a regular human being, Brendon was inhaling and exhaling erratically whilst his pulse soared.   
Mr. Weekes stepped back. “Are you ok?”  
“Yeah, I’m-I’m fine.”   
Brendon excused himself to go to the bathroom, praying to God that he wasn’t as hard as he felt.  
He heard Mr. Weekes say “oh,” and when he looked over he was trying to hide a smile.  
Brendon was pretty sure this was the single most embarrassing moment of his life.  
* * *  
“Well, singing was fun while it lasted but I guess that’s over now.” Said Brendon.  
“What happened?!” nagged Spencer for the fourth time.  
“Honestly dude,” said Jon. “Spencer’s not gonna quit. You might as well tell him before we all lose our minds.”  
Brendon, Spencer and Jon were sitting on the grass outside the mess hall, apparently waiting for Ryan to get his lunch and come sit with them.  
“It’s too embarrassing!!!!” Brendon whined. He really did not want to relive that experience.  
Apparently, he didn’t have a choice in the matter, because Spencer started to tickle him, and refused to stop until he was told the truth.  
“Okay okay! I’ll tell you.”  
Spencer sat back and crossed his legs, grinning in victory.  
“He was…we were….”   
Jon nodded at him in encouragement.  
Brendon took in a deep breath. “I was singing, but I wasn’t breathing right, so he went up to me and sorta, held my neck and I sorta…”  
He trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually say the next part. Unfortunately Jon and Spencer just looked confused.  
“I sorta- kinda- maybe…got a bit turned on.”  
They stared at him, for a long second, before simultaneously bursting into laughter.  
“Great. Thanks, you guys. I feel so much better now.” Brendon’s voice dripped with sarcasm.  
Jon was clutching his stomach and Spencer was wiping away tears, rolling around on the grass. Every now and again they’d calm down long enough to open their eyes and look at each other and then they’d be off again.  
“What’s so funny?”   
Brendon jumped. Fuck, he’d completely forgotten they were waiting for Ryan.  
“Oh man,” Spencer said wiping literal tears from his eyes. “I can’t believe you popped a boner in front of Mr. Weekes dude that’s painful.”  
Brendon was back to seething with rage and embarrassment. He kicked Spencer in the shin and gave him a look that said “what the fuck man?!”  
Ryan just raised his eyebrows and proceeded to change the conversation to what plans were for the winter break.  
After lunch ended Brendon didn’t see Ryan until the next day  
* * *  
“Skipping music?”   
Brendon jumped. Ryan really had to stop appearing out of nowhere.  
“Can’t really face our teacher right now.”   
Ryan didn’t say anything, just sat next to Brendon on the grass and lit a cigarette.   
Brendon liked the way Ryan smoked. He did it so easily, like it was something as natural as walking or breathing. Brendon watched the smoke escape his parted lips.   
Then it happened. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how it happened, because he was very aware of Ryan blowing the smoke out of his nose, shifting to face him, and pressing his lips against Brendon’s. It was more that he didn’t know why it happened. Why now? Why was he so fucking cryptic?  
Of course at the time, Brendon wasn’t that concerned with why Ryan’s tongue was inside his mouth, he was perfectly okay with not knowing, as long as it stayed there.  
But of course, it didn’t. And a few seconds later, Ryan was putting out his cigarette, brushing the grass off his jeans and walking towards the dorms.  
Brendon skipped all his classes that day.


	4. Chapter 4

It was Friday night, and there was another party. Brendon didn’t particularly want to go, but Pete wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it so he decided it would be best for everyone if he just gave in.  
He headed straight for the alcohol as they walked through the door. Ryan wasn’t paying him any attention; he was too busy flirting with a blonde chick in the corner of the room.   
A new song started playing, and Brendon recognized it immediately. Spencer and Jon were already serenading each other on the dance floor, so Brendon decided to join them, giving an awesome air guitar impression. He looked like a fucking idiot, and he knew it, but he was beyond caring. Fuck rumors, fuck surprise boners, and fuck Ryan Ross.  
The song had barely ended when Brendon felt a hand on his wrist, tugging him in an unknown direction. He was too drunk to struggle, and much too drunk to care where he was being led, and it wasn’t until they’d made it to the door of Brendon’s dorm room that he’d even realized who was leading him.  
“Ryan?” he said, bewildered.  
Ryan pulled him into the dorm room and shut the door.  
“Shut the fuck up Urie.”  
And then Ryan was kissing him again, but this time Ryan’s body was pressed up against him and that meant it was really him, and fuck, oh god those were Ryan’s lips against his, and those were Ryan’s fingers running through his hair and those were Ryan’s hips pushing against his, and that was Ryan’s – fuck. Brendon took back everything he ever said about not being sexually attracted to Ryan.   
Brendon was pretty sure he’d never been this hard in his whole fucking life, and he knew Ryan could feel it because he was pressed right up against him, and every time Ryan moved Brendon had to choke back a moan because there was so much friction, and Brendon was pretty sure any moment now he was going to pass out or come or drop dead and none of those were particularly desirable options at the time.  
Thankfully Ryan stepped backwards and guided Brendon towards the bed, and he very willingly obeyed. They collapsed in a heap and scrambled to find each other’s mouths. They shifted into a new position and this time Brendon was on top of Ryan, and although Brendon momentarily panicked with no fucking clue what he was doing, Ryan put his hands in Brendon’s hair and pulled their mouths together and it was easy from there. Brendon couldn’t help but grind down against Ryan because that was his fucking dick and that was Brendon’s dick and they were four layers of clothing away from touching and that thought was driving him up the fucking wall.   
He doesn’t even remember plucking up the courage to undo Ryan’s flies but suddenly he’s helping Ryan out of his jeans and Ryan’s in his boxers and Brendon is seriously one layer of fabric away from Ryan’s cock - and that’s not something that Brendon can cope with - so he’s pulling Ryan’s boxers off and Ryan’s helping him and then that’s Ryan’s junk, right there, under Brendon and holy fuck what is going on.  
Obviously, he can’t just stay frozen whilst Ryan’s dick is right there, so he reaches down and touches it gently and Ryan’s breathing hitches – and he can’t, he just can’t fucking help himself – so he bends down and slides his tongue up his length. Ryan hisses, he fucking hisses like a cat and slides his hands into Brendon’s hair and then he’s tightening his grip and guiding Brendon’s mouth down onto his cock and Brendon can feel the heat fill up his mouth and Ryan’s making these choked up moans and gasping his name – Brendon’s name, holy shit – and then he’s pulling Brendon off of him and rolling over and coming all over Brendon’s bed in one long, loud groan.   
There’s a few seconds of silence, before the door opens and someone is stumbling inside and the light turns on and it’s Pete – of course it’s Pete – Brendon’s loud obnoxious roommate.  
“Well, well, well,” Pete chuckled to himself in a slightly-tipsy-but-not-wasted-enough-to-slur voice.  
Ryan was already pulling up his jeans and heading for the door at that point, in the typical Ryan Ross fashion: do something fucking mind-blowing and then pretend it never happened.  
Brendon didn’t really have a right to be mad at Ryan, and he wasn’t really, he was pretty fucking happy with sucking him off, and he didn’t really care if Ryan had returned the favor or not, and even if Ryan was going to give back what he got, Pete interrupted them, so it really wasn’t Ryan’s fault at all. Brendon was just tired, and slightly drunk, and very frustrated.  
Three minutes later Pete and Brendon were in bed and the lights were off and Brendon was jacking off to the smell of Ryan’s come and the fresh memory of him moaning Brendon’s name.  
* * *  
“Where’s Ryan?”   
Jon and Spencer exchanged a sideways look.   
“Talking to someone,” said Spencer.  
Brendon swallowed. He was 90 per cent certain that Spencer and Jon both knew about last night. Details that they couldn’t acquire by deduction were probably acquired through Pete, or who knows, maybe even Ryan - the man himself.  
He sighed and walked back to the dorms.   
* * *  
Brendon didn’t see Ryan until the evening.   
Spencer told him that Ryan was outside smoking, and that it was probably best that they “had a chat”. Brendon didn’t know what the fuck that was supposed to mean, but he went outside anyway, and there Ryan was.  
“Where the fuck were you today?”  
Ryan didn’t turn to look at him. “With someone.”  
“Who?”  
“Keltie.”  
Brendon paused. Who the fuck was Keltie? “Who the fuck is Keltie?”  
Ryan gave him one of those long, Ryan stares, where he searched your soul and gave nothing away about his own. “She’s my girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Stacey's Mom" if u were wondering lmao


	5. Chapter 5

Brendon wasn’t thinking about it. He wasn’t thinking about how he’d sucked off a guy with a girlfriend, or how Ryan didn’t fucking tell him that he had a fucking girlfriend or how he still jacked off every night to the memory of sucking off a guy with a girlfriend. He wasn’t thinking about it.  
He went to music class on Monday and only exchanged awkward eye contact with Mr. Weekes twice – which was something of a record lately. He even plucked up enough courage to go to his singing lesson on Tuesday.   
The first half of the lesson went smoothly - Brendon didn’t fuck up any vocal exercises or pop any surprise boners – and he was feeling pretty confident about it all.   
Mr. Weekes leaned against his desk and ran a hand through his hair. He was somewhere else. There was a long silence.  
“Sir?”  
“Brendon, how old are you?”  
How old? Brendon was pretty sure his age wasn’t relevant to his vocal ability. “Seventeen.” – Mr. Weekes grimaced – “Eighteen in April.”  
Mr. Weekes didn’t reply.  
“How old are you?”  
“Twenty-one.” Mr. Weekes laughed to himself. “Never mind; let’s sing.”  
* * *  
Ryan was nowhere to be found, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was avoiding Brendon. Honestly – Brendon was glad he didn’t have to face Ryan, he didn’t need Ryan’s cryptic looks and beautiful lips to confuse him even more. Besides, according to Spencer he was spending more time with his girlfriend – Keltie – and that was probably best seeing as he probably doesn’t want her to know how he came moaning Brendon’s name a few nights ago.  
But Brendon wasn’t thinking about that.  
* * *  
Mr. Weekes seemed different. It wasn’t like Brendon knew the guy all that well but he was more detached, less enthusiastic.  
It wasn’t until Brendon stayed behind after class to hand in his essay that Mr. Weekes actually looked at him.  
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be alone with you anymore.”  
The words echoed in Brendon’s head – what? “Why not?”  
Mr. Weekes sighed and drummed his fingers against his desk. “It’s unprofessional.”  
He was avoiding Brendon’s gaze.  
Unprofessional? What does that even mean?  
“What does that…?” Brendon trailed off.   
Mr. Weekes was finally looking at him. His gaze flicked up and down from Brendon’s lips to his eyes. “Fuck.” He looked away.  
Brendon wasn’t sure where all this newfound confidence was coming from, but suddenly he was moving – slowly – towards Mr. Weekes, and the teacher was looking at him, at his throat, and breathing quickly. Brendon put his hands under Mr. Weekes’ jaw and leaned in until their lips were inches apart.  
Mr. Weekes made a small noise – a whimper – and closed the gap, pulling Brendon in closer and licking into his mouth. Brendon knew this was fucking absurd, he was making out with his teacher and he could feel his teacher’s fucking erection pressing against his stomach and what the actual fuck.  
Suddenly Mr. Weekes was pushing him away and panting and his pupils were fucking blown and he just turned round and walked out the fucking door.  
* * *  
Brendon didn’t think he’d ever been this sexually confused in his life – including the time where he figured out he was gay.  
It was 12:30pm and he was supposed to be at a Calculus class but after what just happened he decided it would be best to go back to his dorm and deal with his boner first. He was lying in bed, about to fucking come with a lot of confusing imagery in his head when Pete walked in (of course, because apparently Brendon wasn’t allowed to have a fucking orgasm without Pete in the room) and checked his watch, frowning and saying: “Bit early to be sexually frustrated isn’t it?” And Pete was still staring at him when Brendon’s eyes rolled back and he came all over the mattress.  
“That was hot,” Pete said, grinning.


End file.
